


year zero

by heathledger



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, M/M, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 08:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3685878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heathledger/pseuds/heathledger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He saved the world, all worlds, except for his, and that was a hard feeling to deal with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	year zero

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic since 2012, so I'm sorry if this is a bit shit. I'm more comfortable writing emotional studies of characters and relationships, but even this was a little hard for me to do after not writing for so long.

The nightmares started post Valentine.

His life was now separated into two times, much like the people who lived to see the supposed life of Christ. There was pre Valentine, a life of poverty in abuse, that late in its time was brightened by a promise and a proper life, and, for once, actual _real_ joy that was as beautiful as it was terrifying to a boy who had a hard time living.

Then there was post Valentine, where he went back to the start. Unlike the year zero, it had started, not with a birth, but a death.

The central point when the times converged was a bullet to the head. Unfortunately, it wasn’t his head that felt the impact, but sometimes it felt like it was.

Time was a bitch.

* * *

 It was a month before that he realised that for once in his life, he was content.

And content didn’t necessarily mean happy. It meant that he had finally found something felt right, something that just clicked in his existence. For once, he wasn’t wishing for something to end.

For once, Eggsy Unwin believed that he had a future to look forward to.

And of course it was hard, there wasn’t much in his life besides training for Kingsman, but somehow it just felt like it was something he was born to do. And he didn’t mean that in a cliché way that would have Roxy rolling his eyes at him, but he did feel like it was his destiny to become a Kingsman.

He told that to Harry that night, when they were sharing a glass of whisky in his room at the estate, and Harry grinned at him (something he had learned to appreciate as it was a rare sight), and his eyes shone with pride.

“I felt the same, actually,” he smiled, legs crossed the way he always sat, although he looked less composed, a little more relaxed. “That’s the sign of a good Kingsman, Eggsy. Remember that.”

It should have occurred to him then that he was a little closer to his mentor than other recruits were, and that something was there, something that perhaps didn’t need to be defined, yet was so important.

He didn’t realise until it was too late.

* * *

It was a month after that he finally fell.

It was the day he finally, officially, became a Kingsman. It was the day he was given the name Galahad, and expected to be happy with his title. It was the day that they expected him to forget he was the clone of a dead man, the man that he-

He didn’t want to finish that thought.

He was _a fucking clone_ , wearing the same pinstripe suit, the same way of composing himself, he was even living in his house. He was a cheap copy of the real thing, and he wanted the real Harry to stand up.

He knew he was gone, he fucking knew it. There was no coming back from the dead kind of shit going on that was seen in those films Harry and Valentine were always talking about. If Harry was going to come back from the dead, he would have already. A gentleman does not leave the people who need him waiting.

Thank god his mother and sister were out when he arrived at the house, not his home because it was _Harry’s_ , and thank god they did not see him collapse on the couch, crying in a house that soon would cease to smell like Harry, but would always be his.

Thank _fucking_ god.

* * *

It was around a week and a half before Valentine that Eggsy had realised that he was utterly in love with Harry Hart.

The idea was somewhat confronting, not because he was a fellow male, because Eggsy was a modern boy who literally did not care about the idea of taking on a set sexuality, but because Harry was at least twenty five years his senior, and his mentor. It was unheard of, and a little too strange for his liking, but he took it anyway.

He was smitten.

* * *

Two months after, he started sleeping in Harry’s bed.

* * *

Three years before, Eggsy was in the hospital.

A ‘punishment’ from Dean had gone too far, and given the fairytale of a trip down the stairs, and Eggsy was in the hospital, with doctors and nurses suspecting that he didn’t actually fall down, but not questioning the matter, or calling the police.

And Eggsy was fine with just that, as even if they made a fuss, Dean would still get out and find a way to hurt him and his mother. He always did.

And at that point Eggsy just wondered, was the more to life than just this? Could he actually do something worthwhile, and not just wait for some miracle to arrive?

Two weeks after he left the hospital, he applied for the Marines.

* * *

The nightmares had started two weeks after Valentine, and he had asked Merlin if taking sleeping pills would decrease his abilities on missions.

“Well, no,” Merlin said, and Eggsy let out a sigh, before Merlin added, “Not if you take too many.”

It wasn’t that he was going to, it was that if he need an escape from life, if he literally could not take it any more, he would take a pill too many.

“So I’m clear to use them?” Eggsy said, rubbing at his temples. A nightmare had flowed into a migraine, and he had used painkillers to decrease the pain, but to no avail.

“Yes, as long as you’re careful,” Merlin said. He seemed to be at a loss for words, wanting to ask if Eggsy was okay, yet not being sure whether it was his place. He simply placed a hand on his shoulder, and then left the room, leaving Eggsy behind.

He knew he couldn’t be Harry.

* * *

When his little sister was born, he fell in love.

It was the first time he did, and it wasn’t soppy romantic love, it was love for his little sister, a girl he would always protect. Always.

Dean didn’t even come to his mother’s delivery, and it was Eggsy who was there to support her, Eggsy who was the first to hold her, Eggsy taking over the position of a father figure because at that point he knew Dean would treat her like crap her whole life, so why wouldn’t he take on the role from the first second of her life?

It was Eggsy who named her, Eggsy who took care of her, in the hospital when his mother was too tired, and years later, giving her a home and freedom when his mother could not.

He truly loved her, and it was a hard feeling to deal with.

* * *

He saved the world, all worlds, except for his, and that was a hard feeling to deal with.

* * *

He kissed him, at least.

It was a day or two before, when everything was right in the world, and it was at that point that Eggsy’s life was at its best, in the arms of a man who he loved, before he was torn away from him.

It was a kiss of promise, the words uttered from Harry’s lips, a promise that of _later_ , that they’ll do this again once everything was perfect, once Eggsy was a Kingsman and they were able to be together properly.

There wasn’t a day, ever, where everything was perfect. They had no chance.

* * *

“You look just like him, you know that?”

“Please don’t say that.”

* * *

Eggsy’s life was like a sheet of glass. Not becoming a Kingsman was the first crack. Harry’s disappointment was the second.

Harry’s death, however. That shattered the glass completely.

* * *

Every time someone called him Galahad, he looked around, expecting Harry to be there.

He never was.

* * *

Four months later, he was prescribed a psychiatrist to deal with his constant nightmares.

“Explain to me some of the recurring elements of your dreams.”

Harry Hart. A bullet to the head.

“I keep on watching the love of my life being murdered.”

* * *

The point of closure was a significant point, but it wasn’t enough to start a new time. It was pre and post forever now, just because closure was a big deal didn’t mean it was a new start.

They never had a service for Harry Hart, and the name Galahad was etched onto a gravestone in the estate’s graveyard, which was a spooky place with rows of Galahads, Arthurs, Percivals and others, a small memento while the ashes of each Kingsman where thrown into urns to be given to the closest significant other.

It was kind of sad that Eggsy, who knew the man for a small amount of time in the man’s life, was Harry’s closest significant other.

The point of closure was him placing the urn on a shelf in his house, because it was his house now, and leaving it there. There was no photos, no keepsakes other than the urn, no marker to signify _Here is Harry Hart_ , but it was enough.

And at that point Eggsy finally found that he was content again. His sister and mother were safe. He was a Kingsman. Roxy was too. He wasn’t happy, but he was content.

It was six months after but somehow he had moved on, but Harry Hart was a constant fixture in his mind and his heart.


End file.
